


What a Wonderful Space

by VulpesVulpes713



Series: A Collection of Klance [6]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Comforting, Cuban Lance (Voltron), Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Homesick Lance (Voltron), Keith finds him, Keith/Lance (Voltron) Fluff, Klance Week 2017, Langst, Love?, M/M, Missing Earth, Mutual Pining, POV Lance (Voltron), Singing, Ukulele, but not really, contemplates the meaning of space, go figure, just a quick fluffly fic, keith also plays the uke, klance, klance fluff, lance is blue, lance plays the uke, space, yes I believe so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-19 00:34:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11302077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VulpesVulpes713/pseuds/VulpesVulpes713
Summary: Once, when he was very young, space had simply meant night, when the stars would fade into view one by one, and he was able to count them, until suddenly he would blink and the entire sky would be a canvas of glowing specks that he would eagerly wish upon.‘One day I’ll go to space,’ he would confess, and if he wasn’t alone, his family would smile.





	What a Wonderful Space

It’s funny really, how a simple word can mean different things to different people, depending on who you asked.

 

Space, for example, has multiple definitions, and Lance pondered them as he wandered about the castle; a moment of reprieve in the chaos around them as the war waged on.

 

Once, when he was very young, space had simply meant night, when the stars would fade into view one by one, and he was able to count them, until suddenly he would blink and the entire sky would be a canvas of glowing specks that he would eagerly wish upon.

 

 _‘One day I’ll go to space,’_ he would confess, and if he wasn’t alone, his family would smile.

 

Then, there had been a point in his life where he had used the term to mean privacy; an escape when the trials of adolescence became too much to bare.

 

 _‘I just need some space,’_ he would say, and if he was lucky, his family would oblige.

 

There were other times when the word had held ownership, and he would use it to claim an area he felt he had a right over.

 

 _‘This is my room._ _My space,’_ or, _‘I was here first, get your own space,’_ and if he was convincing enough, his family would let him have it.

 

If one were to look up the actual definition of the word though, it would read: _a continuous area or expanse that is free, available, or unoccupied,_ which didn’t make much sense to Lance, since right underneath that, there exists a second option that defines space as: _the dimensions of height, depth, and width within which all things exist and move._

 

Weren’t those two contradicting ideas? How can space be a void within which there is nothing, and yet everything? What happened to space once it was filled? And if there was no one around to fill the space, did it really count as _space?_

 

He did, however, understand how one could take up space and still be defined as empty, since he was living proof. Walking the halls of an ancient alien ship with nothing but his thoughts for comfort, Lance could relate a little too well to the idea of being lost in literal and metaphorical space, existing and moving, and yet still so... _unoccupied._

 

Vacant.  

Hollow.

There and yet...not.

 

He was the living embodiment of the word.

 

“I’m sick of space,” he whispered, but no matter how miserable he sounded, his family was no longer there to hear, and the words fell unnoticed from his tongue.

 

Lance sighed, staring out one of the massive floor length windows that looked out into the nothingness around him, but found that he could not focus on any one point; his eyes growing blurry with unshed tears as he tried to make sense of it all.

 

Space had taken everything from him, but had somehow, inexplicably, left him with just that: a massive hole in his chest that was free, available, unoccupied. A space where his heart should have been, that his family had once filled. _Existed_ in.  

But then, if his heart was now just an empty nothingness, why did it _hurt_ so badly? How come he couldn’t fill a hole that bled space?

 

What even _was_ space?!

 

_Space, space, space, space, space!_

 

He repeated the word in his head until it was nothing more than a sound; a slur of syllables that meant nothing to him, and was able to blink away any evidence of sorrow before rounding a corner into a room he had yet to explore.

 

There was no one in it, for which he was grateful, and as he stepped through the door his eyes landed upon an odd assortment of... _things_ that he couldn’t quite identify. He wandered over to them, curiosity momentarily filling the blanks of his mind.

 

The objects, which Lance took to be Altean in origin, held a variety of shapes, ranging from tall, slender tubes to rounded domes filled with bead-like orbs, but it was when he noticed a particularly familiar looking stringed object among the array of confusion that his mind made the connection.

 

These were instruments.

 

He reached for the one he had recognized, wondering what key it was tuned to, and grunted at it’s weight. The thing, which was roughly the same size and shape of a watermelon cut down the middle, weighed approximately the same as the real fruit would, had he had one to compare. He hoisted it up, moving to sit on the one of the couches that adorned the room, but making a point to keep his back turned away from the large scenic window on the far side of the wall.

 

He was, for the moment at least, going to pretend that space wasn’t real, and that he had never even heard of the word.

 

Lance strummed the instrument once he had settled himself comfortably on the cushions, and found that the four strings were not unlike those of a ukulele, and with some fine tuning, would sound similar enough.

 

He had always had a knack for music, and had taught himself to play by ear from a young age, since lessons were costly and his family was too large for such expenditures. Not that he had ever minded, since learning to play all by himself had been a huge accomplishment, and he prided himself in that fact each and every day.

 

Or had at least, before more trivial matters had taken over his life.

 

Like saving the universe.

 

And trying not to die doing it.

 

Lance pushed those thoughts aside though, focusing his attention back on the gadget in his hands. There didn’t appear to be any way to tune the thing, which was a bit frustrating, but Lance was able to identify what notes the strings sang after a few minutes of fiddling, and went from there.

 

He didn’t have many songs in his repertoire that he could remember off the top of his head, but after strumming the strings and trying out different chords that he knew, recollections of times spent around a bonfire with his family surfaced, bringing with them a certain melody he had entirely forgotten about.

 

He struggled with the tune for a few minutes, trying to get an idea of what to play when, then began strumming out the pattern to a song he used to sing to his nieces and nephews before bed. Keeping his voice low, not only out of habit, but also to avoid drawing too much attention to the room he was occupying, Lance began to sing.  

 

_“I see trees of green, red roses too,_

_I see them bloom, for me and you._

_And I think to myself what a wonderful world-”_

 

He broke off as his throat tightened, the threat of tears making a reappearance as the lyrics swam from his lips. He missed Earth, he knew that.

 

Hell.

 

 _Everybody_ knew that.

 

But there was something about that song, it’s lyrics and meaning, that had flown over Lance’s head prior to leaving his home planet. He had taken trees for granted, had ignored the beauty of roses.

 

Had completely neglected to notice how wonderful his world had been, before it had been taken away.

 

Or, rather, until he had been taken away from _it._

 

But as painful as the memories the song brought with it were, Lance found himself wanting to finish, as if maybe his family would be able to hear his voice. That it would carry through the cosmos and find its’ way to their hearts.

 

And as he sat there on the couch, ignoring the view outside the window behind him, Lance let his eyes shut tight; felt the gush of tears push free from his lids, and imagined he was back on his planet, surrounded by his loved ones, and began strumming once more.

 

 _“I see skies of blue and, clouds of white._  
_The bright blessed day, the dark sacred night._ _  
And I think to myself, what a wonderful world.”_

 

His cheeks were wet with tears, but Lance hardly felt their coolness against his skin. Here, with his eyes closed and his mind free to wander his memories, Lance could pretend he was back at home.

 

His nephew would insist on crawling into his lap as he played, and Lance could almost feel his meager weight against his leg as he picked the strings of the Altean ukulele with nimble, well-practiced fingers.

 

His mom would smile fondly as he sang, joining in with her lofty soprano tones to harmonize with him, and his father would beam at the both of them, pride in his eyes.

 

His sisters would join in as well, but with their own instruments; flutes and guitars and anything that could provide a decent beat, and the song would grow; blossom into something so wholesome you couldn’t help but feel happy.

 

His brother would film it, laughing along with the rest of them as he zoomed in on their faces at unflattering angles, using their distractions as an opportunity to wreak havoc.

 

Aunts, uncles, grandparents and even their closer neighbours, would all congregate around their small fire pit on warm nights, singing into the darkness above them and wishing on stars, as he had done when he was younger, not having any concept of the word ‘space’, only caring that they were all within the same one.

 

“Lance?”

 

The voice bubbled into his mind, and so absorbed in his thoughts was he, that it took Lance a long moment to realize he hadn’t imagined it. His eyes flew open, and he whirled in the direction it had come from, nearly dropping the instrument as he did.

 

There, standing in the doorway, with his hands clasped in front of him almost nervously, was Keith.

 

Lance blinked, having not expected to see the red paladin there, much less say anything, and was momentarily speechless. Keith stared back, face flushed and jacket tied around his waist loosely, and Lance wondered briefly if he had been training.

 

But the training deck was nowhere near this room...and neither was anything else really.

 

So what was Keith doing here?

 

“I uh-” he started when Lance remained silent. “I heard music, and, well…”

 

_Oh. Right._

 

Sound, apparently, travelled a lot further in an empty, metal ship with elaborate ventilation systems, and there was hardly anything to prevent the echos of his playing from reaching the ears of his teammates.

 

Lance turned away, suddenly embarrassed at having been caught, and hastily wiped away any tear trails that may have become ingrained on his cheeks.  

 

His relationship with Keith had grown into something more than the rivals Lance had originally thought they were, and there were moments when he thought that maybe they could be more than just paladins.

More than comrades.

 

Friends, but even that didn’t seem like enough at times.

 

He wasn’t sure if Keith felt the same, and as much as he would usually want to try and figure out his feelings for the boy, this wasn’t the time.

 

He just couldn’t do it. Not today.

 

Not right now.

 

“Sorry.” he mumbled, then chastised himself for allowing the melancholy of his remembrances to taint his tone of voice, and tried again. “Just found some cool instruments and thought I’d serenade Allura later on!”

 

He cringed upon hearing the second part, knowing it had come out much too cheery and forced, even for him, and sighed heavily as he heard Keith’s footsteps grow nearer. He didn’t feel like acting like he was okay right now.

 

He was too drained.

 

Too exhausted.

 

And too freaking _blue_ to even try and pretend to be anything else.

 

He felt Keith sit on the couch beside him, near the other end, so as to give him space.

 

A twinge of anger passed through Lance’s gut upon even thinking the word, but he pushed it down, knowing that Keith wouldn’t understand. Or maybe he would, but Lance didn’t have the energy to try and explain himself right then.

 

_Why did you come here? Just leave…_

 

But as much as Lance had wanted to be alone with his thoughts, having someone near him was reassuring, almost like Keith was the branch he had attached his kite string to, hindering his progress, but also preventing his mind from wandering too far from reality; carried away by lofty thoughts.

 

“You don’t have to apologize,” Keith said, his voice low and almost soft, which was new, coming from him. “I thought it was nice.”

 

Lance looked over at him then, forgetting that his eyes were most likely red from crying, and swallowed heavily upon hearing the compliment.

 

That was _definitely_ new.

 

He cleared his throat. “Um, thanks.”

 

He still wasn’t sure if Keith was being genuine with him or not, and was on the defensive about having been told his singing was nice. Sure, he knew he had a decent voice, but this was Keith.

 

And why would Keith give up an opportunity to tease him? Unless he could sense that there was something bothering him...but that didn’t seem likely.

 

Keith, as Lance had begun to realize, wasn’t the best at picking up signals.

 

“Are you going to keep playing?” Keith asked, breaking through the awkward silence that had descended upon them, and Lance bit his lower lip; a subconscious habit he used to do whenever he was nervous; something he had thought he’d outgrown.

 

He frowned at Keith, doing his best to keep the waver out of his voice as he spoke.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Keith blinked, then gestured to the instrument that Lance had been playing.

 

“The ukulele,” he said, and Lance straightened, tilting his head to better examine Keith’s face.

 

“I used to have one,” Keith went on, oblivious to the strange looks he was receiving from the blue paladin, and shifted so he was closer to him on the couch, reaching out to point at something on the Altean instrument.

 

Lance held his breath at the sudden change in position, and tried to ignore the fact that Keith was so close.

 

That his face was mere inches away from his own.

 

That their shoulders were touching, as well as their thighs.

 

That his dark black hair smelled like Altean soap; a mix of lemon and pumpkin spice.

 

“This is where you can tune it,” Keith continued, and Lance followed the direction his finger was pointing towards a small dial on the side of the apparatus that he hadn’t noticed before.

 

“Took me a while to figure it out,” he chuckled, which startled Lance more than his close proximity. It wasn’t often that he heard Keith laugh, much less when it was just the two of them together.

 

Usually the only form of interactions they had were shitty puns and eye rolls.

 

Oh, and the bickering.

 

Always the bickering.

 

“You-um,” Lance managed after overcoming his initial shock and giving himself a mental slap to the brain. “You know how to play?”

 

Keith shrugged, shifting again so he wasn’t as close, which Lance found oddly disappointing, and leaned back on the couch.

 

“I knew how to play a _real_ one, yeah. Back on earth I had a ukulele in my shack, and this is pretty similar. I haven’t figured out the rest of them though,” he finished, glancing over to the corner where the other, unique assemblage of instruments were collecting dust.

 

Lance was stunned. Since when did _Keith_ know how to play music? The red paladin had two modes, and neither of them involved musical proficiencies. He was basically the living embodiment of the acute stress response, be that fight or flight, the latter being more literal than figurative of course, or at least, that was the impression Lance had been under.

 

Maybe he’d been wrong.

 

Or maybe he had just missed it after focusing so much on their rivalry.

 

Whatever the case, Lance couldn’t form a reply, and simply nodded his head mutely, hoping the gesture looked more nonchalant than it felt.

 

“So…” Keith drawled, tapping a little beat on his knees with his fingers idly, “you going to play or what?”

 

“You want me to?” Lance asked, unable to help himself. As unbelievable as it was to hear that Keith had hobbies outside of knives and fingerless gloves, Lance was still on edge about him being sincerely interested in his playing.

 

Or maybe he was just nervous about singing in front of Keith.

 

Nah, that couldn’t be it.

 

Could it?

 

Keith’s nodding brought his attention back to the topic at hand, and Lance cleared his throat abruptly and adjusted the Altean equivalent of a uke in his grasp. Hell, if he was going to do this, then he was going to do it right, and he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to try his best to impress Keith, especially in something he _knew_ he was good at.

 

He strummed the pattern to the song he’d been singing once before continuing, letting his eyes slide shut to focus on remembering the rest of the lyrics, and distract from Keith’s inquisitive gaze.

And then he opened his mouth to sing.

 

 _“The colors of the rainbow, so pretty in the sky._  
_Are also on the faces, of people going by._  
_I see friends shaking hands, sayin, how do you do._ _  
They're really saying-”_

 

Lance trailed off, unable to finish with Keith watching him so intently. His throat was constricting, choking on those last three words as his face burned a bright red. He opened his eyes, glancing over at the red paladin, and noticed that he had edged a bit closer on the couch.

 

Which only made his heart gear up, revving higher and threatening to overexert itself as Keith’s indigo eyes searched his face.

 

“Saying...?” Keith prompted, confused as to why he had stopped, and Lance felt his cheeks burn so hot he swore there was steam rising from evaporating tears.

 

But with Keith this close, Lance could care less about how red his face looked. With Keith this close, all he could think about was one thing. His feelings, which he had been struggling to decipher for so long now, suddenly clicked into place, and like getting clobbered over the head with the instrument itself, Lance realized with a jolt that mere friendship was _not_ going to be enough for him when it came to Keith.

 

“Lance?” the red paladin urged, leaning forward closer to better examine his face, and Lance felt his mind go blank.

 

“I love you,” he whispered, voice unable to get any louder.

 

“What?” Keith blinked, and Lance’s eyes grew wide as he realized what he had said, and to who. As for why though, Lance was at loss; the words having come unbidden to his mouth, as if his heart had momentarily taken control.

 

“I uh-I mean,” he panicked, adrenaline coursing through his body like liquid fire, “that’s the lyric. The end of that verse, umm..yes. Done,” he managed to stammer out, turning his entire body away from Keith and caving in on himself. His fingers tapped on the instrument rapidly, and he pretended to fiddle with the tuner Keith had pointed out to try and distract him from how nervous he was acting. How nervous he _was._

 

He wasn’t sure if it worked.

 

“Hmm,” Keith hummed, but Lance didn’t dare look over, lest his face betray him. “So are you going to finish then?”

 

_What is with this guy?!_

 

Lance took a deep breath, strumming the strings softly as he considered. He wasn’t sure he even _could_ finish the song at this point, much less utter those three words again, even if they were just part of the lyrics.

 

It just felt too real now, and that part of him that had clicked together wasn’t about to break apart anytime soon, and like a floodgate opening, Lance realized that maybe what he had said hadn’t been far from the truth.

 

Maybe, just maybe….

 

“It’s just my favourite part of the song,” Keith urged him, and Lance could have sworn he was pouting as he turned to glance over at him, too curious by the red paladin's behaviour to avoid him any longer.

 

“You have to sing it with me then,” he instructed, surprising himself yet again with the request, as if the words had sprung forth from someone else’s mouth. Keith tilted his head at him, regarding his face intently, before a quick smile broke out on his lips, and he shook his head lightly with a soft laugh.

 

“Alright then.”

 

He made to grab for the uke in Lance’s hands, who pulled it back with a titter.

 

“Nuh uh, I was here first, so I get to play.”

 

Keith narrowed his eyes, as if considering if that sort of reasoning was worth debating, but must have decided otherwise, since he sighed a moment later.

 

“Fine,” then, without waiting for Lance to start strumming, began humming the tune all over again; his fingers tapping out the patterns of the words on his thighs, as if he were playing the piano.

 

When Lance joined in with the Altean ukulele, Keith started them off, and Lance had to remind himself breathe upon hearing his voice.

 

Where he had been expecting deep, almost raspy vocals, a soft, feathery tone emerged from Keith’s lips, the words soaked in honey yet light as a bubble as they drifted up and away from his mouth, fading before even being fully formed.

 

It was shocking, to say the least, but Lance quickly recovered, and joined in with his own, fuller, harmonies, and the two of them sang together on the couch, their voices echoing around the room and driving away any gloom that had been lingering in the corners.

 

When they reached the part that Lance had first sang to Keith, the boy shuffled in closer, so that his side was pressed in tight to his. He had his eyes closed when Lance glanced over, his voice still carrying the lyrics with ease, but confusion making them wobble slightly.

 

Keith didn’t seem to notice though, and went on even as Lance trailed off in favour of watching the red paladin. Keith’s eyes opened when he realized he was now the only one singing, but instead of stop, like Lance had been expecting him to do, Keith simply smiled, angling his body so that he faced him more directly, and continued the song.

 

“ _I see friends shaking hands-”_ he reached forward and took hold of Lance’s, which had froze with the rest of him at Keith’s sudden shift in position...again.

 

 _“-sayin, how do you do?_ ” he shook their hands as if meeting him for the first time, and Lance couldn’t help the grin that spread out across his face, the warmth from Keith seeping into his body like rays of sunshine.

 

“ _They’re really saying-_ ” his voice was quieter this time; slower, more drawn out, and Lance found himself leaning into it. To Keith.

 

 _“I-_ ”

 

Lance held his breath, not daring to breathe lest the moment break.

 

“- _love_ ,”

 

His eyes were trapped in Keith’s, pulling him in closer.

 

“...you.”

 

The word escaped as more of an exhale than anything, and Lance’s lips parted to breathe it in; soaking in Keith’s presence like a flower turning it’s petals to the sun.

 

And as Keith’s own face began to tilt upwards, slowly closing the gap between them as his eyes slid shut, Lance was released from the spell his voice had cast, and quickly pulled back, resuming the song with much more gusto than he had been using previously as he hammered out the chords on the ukulele.

 

 _“I hear babies cryin, I watch them grow._ _  
_ _They'll learn much more than, I'll never know._

_And I think to myself what a wonderful world.”_

 

Keith was giving him a smug look, his lips curled upwards and eyes playful as he watched Lance perform the rest of the song. He didn’t appear to be angry at him for ruining the moment; more amused than anything, and Lance found himself relaxing into the couch, into Keith, and slowed his strumming as he neared the end.

 _  
_ _“Yes I think to myself...what a wonderful world.”_ He grinned as Keith gave him a quick applause, the sound of his hands clapping together loud and echoey after the calming hum of the instrument.

 

Keith hadn’t made a move to back away from him after the song had finished, which Lance found entirely comforting, considering he had most likely just obliterated a possible first kiss. It wasn’t that he didn’t _want_ to kiss Keith, it was just that...the moment hadn’t been right. At least, not for him.

 

He didn’t want to share such a tender moment with the red paladin after having been crying alone and singing to himself about a planet that he may never return to.

 

He didn’t want those memories to overlap.

 

Bittersweet was an emotion he had never truly enjoyed, and that’s exactly what the kiss would have become had he allowed it to happen.

 

So no, it could wait.

 

And besides, simply having Keith this close to him, knowing that he reciprocated his feelings, and having his warmth flow into his side, was enough for now.

 

_More than enough._

 

“What other songs do you know?” Keith asked after a moment, and Lance handed the instrument over to him instead.

 

“I want to hear more of you sing actually,” he said, resting his head on Keith’s shoulder and sighing happily when he didn’t pull away. “You have a nice voice.”

 

He felt Keith laugh at that, the quick exhale of breath tickling the top of his head and making him smile.

 

“Any requests?” he heard Keith ask, and shrugged.

 

“Something soft.”

 

Keith was silent for a few moments as he picked his brain for possible songs, then began  strumming out a tune Lance didn't recognize, but enjoyed nonetheless. He relaxed into Keith’s side, letting the space between them widdle away to nothing, and closed his eyes.

 

He was back at the camp fire with his family. Surrounded by people who loved and cared for him. But among his relatives were new faces.

 

Pidge, Hunk, Shiro, Allura, Coran…

 

And Keith.

 

His _other_ family.

 

And though there was great amount of free, available, unoccupied _space_ separating him from Earth, he knew that he wasn’t alone, because within that vast nothingness, there existed everything he held dear.

 

Because space was more than just the night. It was more than privacy, or a room, or the gap between two people on a couch.

 

It was something that could be shared, given, and right now, Lance was happy to have Keith in his space, singing to him softly and never once prying into why he had been crying in the first place.

 

And as Keith’s voice lulled his mind into happier thoughts, Lance decided that, maybe space wasn’t so bad afterall. Maybe it _hadn’t_ taken everything from him. Maybe that hole in his heart _could_ be filled, with a little time...and a few more songs.

 

And though Earth would always be his true home, right here, in this moment with Keith, Lance figured that there was no better space to be in.

 

As his body grew heavier with the lure of sleep, a single thought ran through his head, and he smiled to himself, knowing that the song he and Keith had been singing would forever hold a different meaning from now on.

 

Knowing that, so long as Keith was near him, the emptiness wouldn’t feel so all encompassing.

 

And knowing that, for the moment at least, all that free, available, unoccupied nothingness that everything existed and moved in was being shared between the two of them, Lance allowed himself to change the ending lyric of the song ever so slightly to better fit the mood.

 

_And I think to myself, what a wonderful space._

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick drabble about a homesick Lance finding a ukulele and playing a little tune.  
> Also you can pry uke playing Keith from my cold dead hands. He was bored af in that little shack and you know it.  
> Uke's are easy to play but also have so much soul that it's the perfect instrument for the both of them to be able to play.
> 
>  
> 
> My[Tumblr](http://vulpes--vulpes.tumblr.com/)  
> And for those who don't know the song, or what it would sound like played on a ukulele, here you go. [What a wonderful world (uke)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sK6-QY4m21I)


End file.
